


there he goes (my baby walks so slow).

by Prettything_uglylie



Series: The 100 [16]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Awkward Sexual Situations, Birthday Sex, Bottom Bellamy Blake, Daddy Kink...as a joke, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time Bottoming, First Time Topping, M/M, Praise Kink, Sexual Humor, Surgeon John Murphy (The 100), Top John Murphy (The 100)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:27:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24482005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prettything_uglylie/pseuds/Prettything_uglylie
Summary: Murphy is leaned over their cutting board, julienning the red peppers as he makes one of Bellamy's favorite stir-fries and he watches the muscles of his back shift under the skin. As he watches the rippling of the ivory canvas rack through him, Bellamy finds himself asking, "Hey, can we talk about us for a minute?"
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/John Murphy
Series: The 100 [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1275407
Kudos: 38





	there he goes (my baby walks so slow).

**Author's Note:**

> I just sort of thought of this and I hope you enjoy it! I truly prefer bottom!Murphy (for projection reasons tbh) but I just had inspiration to write this so please enjoy!

Murphy is leaned over their cutting board, julienning the red peppers as he makes one of Bellamy's favorite stir-fries and he watches the muscles of his back shift under the skin. As he watches the rippling of the ivory canvas rack through him, Bellamy finds himself asking, "Hey, can we talk about us for a minute?" 

Murphy's glance over his bare shoulder reveals his small smirk and shining eyes - this is his wheelhouse, the only place he seems deeply comfortable and Bellamy adores watching him here, especially shirtless with his scars open and unapologetic. His tone is languish, "Oh, please don't be breaking up with me on your birthday while I'm making you dinner." 

"I'm not!" Bellamy insists loudly before wrapping his arms around his back, "No, uh, it's more...sexual than anything." 

"Ooh," Murphy sing-songs quietly before leaning back into him and asking, looking up at him beneath thick lashes and faking a sickly innocent tone, "Daddy wants to fuck me while I make him dinner like a good little housewife?" 

He pours his urge to splutter instead into a smug act and presses a kiss to his deep scar on his shoulder, "As much as Daddy loves to fuck his little housewife and as much as his little housewife likes to play good little housewife...I'm...I'm kinda wondering if you'll fuck me?" 

Murphy's brow furrows before him lifting an eyebrow at him over his shoulder, asking, "You're serious?" 

"You don't have to if you don't want to?" Bellamy offers as he suffers through his stomach tightening in anxiety, "I know how you have some...sexual issues so if you don't want me to -" 

He's cut off by Murphy's soft lips pressing into his. Murphy's kiss is soft and reassuring as though he had felt Bellamy's anxiety growing in the pit of his stomach and to ease it does this sweet open gesture. When he pulls away, his eyes are shining softly and his voice gentle but reassuring, "I'm gonna fuck you senseless, baby." 

His kiss is firming. 

* * *

"So, do you want to call me Daddy?" Murphy asks before taking a sip of their red wine at the dinner table with a smug smirk. 

His eyebrow lifts as Bellamy chokes on the wine, cheeks growing flushed before he sets his light-bodied glass down. "Uh, no? I don't think I do." 

Murphy nods gently, face moving into a more neutral expression, and swirls more of the stirfry on his silver tongs, "How dominant do you want me to be?" 

Bellamy considers - though he had proposed the idea, he had only ever considered blurry images of intertwining skin slapping together or Murphy's plump lips curled into a smirk as he fucks him or the feeling of something inside of him. He hadn't considered the submission of the pose or how much power Murphy would have over him. 

"Relatively dominant." He decides, adjusting to the brash approach the typical-bottom has taken and using it to feed off of. "No degrading or Daddy stuff though." 

Murphy hums as Bellamy takes another bite and the younger boy takes another sip of his wine, tasting it across his tongue before asking, "What about choking?" 

He thinks about Murphy's hands; steady and solid, slim digits wrapping into broken nailbeds and the systematic way he wields them, both in the kitchen and in his practice. Abby had been right with him, he thinks, recalling the time that Murphy had left high school anxious off of too many court dates from his own mother and unsure of what he wants to build for the future of his career until Abby had brought him into her world and Murphy now continues to excel as a surgeon. He is comfortable with Murphy's hand, but is he comfortable with Murphy's hands wrapped around his throat? 

Bellamy looks thoughtful, "We'll see about that." 

* * *

"Hands and knees," Murphy starts, voice firm suddenly in a way that sends Bellamy's dick growing harder than it should, and patting the small of his back in impatient encouragement - he fights the urge to chuckle, Murphy's always eager whether it be him taking it or new experimentation like topping Bellamy. 

He's beautiful like this, dominant and erotic with a bit of flush hiding in his cheeks and eyes a dark jewel blue color. 

Perhaps, Bellamy's the eager one, he thinks about himself not even slightly ashamed as he rolls over onto his hands and knees/ 

Murphy's voice is lavish with a smug amusement, "Look at you, Bellamy, such a good boy." 

His groan comes from deep in his throat and his back arches a little in pleasure from the compliment as Murphy's words wash over him. When he glances over his shoulder, Murphy's face is warm and his eyes glow. It sends chills down his spine at the tenderness Murphy is openly displaying with him and he rubs the arch of his back with his thumb sweetly. 

Bellamy stifles the urge to cry. He doesn't know where it comes from but it's an overwhelming urge nonetheless, one Murphy must sense from his form because he lifts his steady-love hand to press his hand there and assures him softly, "You can cry if you want, Bell." 

"I'm okay." He says too quickly and remembers how long it had taken him to kick habits considered toxically masculine - crying and saying 'I'm okay' when he's not had been the major ones. _He's allowed to cry, even if it's while being dicked down by his sweet boyfriend._

Murphy's nod is felt but silent and leaves a peck where his hand was and with his lips still ghosting over the tan skin, murmurs, "You sure you want to do this?" 

He is horrifically vulnerable. He decides stemming from Murphy's gentle response, that he doesn't mind it. 

His responsive "yeah" is a shaky breath and Murphy's voice is gentle teasing rather than cruel taunting, like being in on the joke rather than being on the brunt of it when he mimics, "Yeah?" 

"Yeah," he laughs a little wetly but feels the warmth deep in him and leans back into Murphy, whose hands align to his hips and he gives a slight thrust into his hips, just enough to shift him. 

"So, did you prepare yourself for me when I was doing the dishes?" Murphy asks, a sticky-sweet question and Bellamy's cheeks flush. The question holds the imagery of him kneeling on the bedding, torso pressed into the mattress as he reaches behind him to open himself up for Murphy and the image seems so... _desperate_ of him. 

He nods, cheeks burning red and he drops to his elbows to bury his face in the pillows until Murphy grips his hair - not hard or degrading - before teasingly singsonging, "I can't hear you." 

Bellamy says, "Spongebob Squarepants" off of instinct and while it could easily be a mood-ruiner for some, Murphy's laughter fills the air and his stomach is full of butterflies. 

"Guess I deserved that." He retorts when he finally composes himself and while Bellamy is thinking over how to respond, Murphy's thumb slides into him and he moans in surprise. 

"Fuuuuck," he groans and leans back into it in a way that makes Murphy chuckle. Murphy pulls his thumb out and praises him, "You're nice and tight. Sure you can take me?" 

He smiles as he remembers fucking Murphy for the first time where Murphy had started to claim _he needed to slow down_ because he was too fucking big and Bellamy had been tender about it but when he moved to pull out, Murphy's legs had locked around his hips and eyes practically burning had demanded _what the fuck are you doing?_

Bellamy smirks over his shoulder and pretends to glance down at Murphy's dick, which is probably average in size but he likes to tease as he knows he is longer than the average guy - he knows and so does Murphy judging by what he typically says when mouthing at Bellamy's dick, "I'm sure I can." 

"Oh, fuck you." Murphy scoffs before leaning in to push himself into Bellamy's opening and he barely stifles his 'you already are' in favor of groaning at the new push. The pressure is firm and warm, hard, and broad inside of him compared to his own fingers, which had been the only thing he had inside of him previously. 

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." He repeats even as he presses back into Murphy's thrusts but they're slow and _that_ is more overwhelming than the actual presence of something inside of him. 

"I'm going..." Murphy pretends to grumble but his thrusts speed up and Bellamy is overwhelmed by it. 

He doesn't know when he starts crying, somewhere between Murphy's stronger thrusts that make him see stars and his sweet praise into his ear that he's _doing so good_ , that he's _taking it so well_ , and he's _the best thing I could have ever asked for, Bell._

He cums, sobbing as Murphy uses him, littering kisses over his back and shoulders as he thrusts, reaching around to stroke Bellamy. He pulls out as he softens and moves off of Bellamy with a single muttered, "Fuck." 

Bellamy's face is still burning with a few stray tears skating down his cheeks but he garners enough energy to laugh when he hears a pained groan and a muttered curse after Murphy slams his hip against the bathroom doorway. 

The washcloth is warm against the curve of his ass as his boyfriend wipes the cum off and out of him before Murphy asks, "What did you think?" 

"I liked it." Bellamy states but considers it for a second while reaching up to wipe tears from his cheeks until he continues, "I like fucking you more though." 

Murphy chuckles, his voice sounding in the room next over and likely in the bathroom to put the washcloth away before he enters the room again, "I like getting fucked more too... like the feeling of you inside me - " 

"Don't make me hard again." He complains into the pillow again until he feels Murphy lay across his back. 

"I like you fucking me but I wouldn't complain about topping you more." He finishes. 

Bellamy smiles, feeling very similar to his lover and finally answering, "Agree. Go to bed now." 

Murphy's smirk is audible, "Yes, Daddy." 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked this! Feel free to throw prompts at me or comments and kudos, I love them all!


End file.
